


Angel Kisses

by nacholibreluvr2006



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nacholibreluvr2006/pseuds/nacholibreluvr2006
Summary: "There were too many instances to count where she fell in love with him again and again. Normally the feeling came when she least expected it, the warmth blooming throughout her chest, an irrepressible smile lighting up her face, mirroring Bobby’s own."[this is a shameless fluffy fic with little to no plot; i just wanted to gush over bobby]
Relationships: Bobby McKenzie/Main Character (Love Island)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	Angel Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't think i'd post any one-shots [especially since i haven't finished the series - which i'm revamping btw and i fully intend to finish] but i've been struck with inspiration lately. i've been replaying season 2 and i'm falling in love with bobby again.
> 
> i really want to keep writing for bobby but need ideas - if you have any suggestions or want to chat or be friends, follow me on tumblr on my litg sideblog @bobbytheemckenzie ! i would love to talk bobby and if you have any bobby ideas you want me to bring to life, don't hesitate to dm me ♡ 
> 
> please let me know what you think! :)

There were too many instances to count where she fell in love with him again and again. Normally the feeling came when she least expected it, the warmth blooming throughout her chest, an irrepressible smile lighting up her face, mirroring Bobby’s own.

One time it was when he tried showing off, flipping a massive chocolate chip pancake, and it missed, splattering onto the tile floor.

She could see their love manifesting, nearly physically. Within the crinkling skin around his eyes when he laughed at her jokes. Within the goosebumps she gave him when he endured her pressing her cold feet against his calves. Within the huff of air he let out when he got frustrated on behalf of her. Within the subconscious grip he had on her when they slept, his arms thrown around her waist, tightening instinctively when she turned over.

She loved to be near him; before the villa, she valued her privacy. She was convinced she’d hole herself up in her apartment for weeks, enjoying the sweet bliss of silence, a luxury she wasn’t afforded within the confines of the villa.

But after winning, she never thought twice about leaving his side.

Aside from work, the only alone time she craved was in the early hours of the morning, right at the cusp of sunrise.

Usually exhausted, barely able to keep her eyes open, she awoke, eyes adjusting to the dimness lighting of the room. Slivers of light peeked through the curtains, soft streaks of sun hitting the down comforter.

Bobby faced her, lids closed, breathing deeply, letting out a barely audible snore every few beats. His mouth was slightly parted, his face relaxed, hand tucked underneath his pillow, his other arm thrown over her waist.

His face was calm, tranquil. She loved his smile – his laugh even more so – but above all else, seeing him at peace was her serenity.

She traced her finger over his jawline, feeling soft light stubble (which he claimed was so light and patchy that he refused to let it grow out). He smelled faintly of coconut from the products he used to maintain his locs. She’d added hair maintenance to her nightly routine, eagerly learning more about how his mom used to help him lather products onto his dreads to keep them neat.

She tugged at the band of his silk sleep cap, his tossing and turning leaving it nearly off his head, and she always had to be the one to resituate it. She didn’t mind. 

She laid her hand on his warm bare chest, stroking his collarbone, peppered with freckles, much like the rest of his body. His darker freckles were more pronounced on his sternum, his face. But his faint, sun-induced specks were splashed across the rest of his skin.

She trained her gaze on his nose, the freckles even more pronounced, but so intricately arranged, hand placed so carefully, much like the deliberate placement of the stars, they were constellations on his cheekbones.

She wasn’t much of a religious person in her adulthood; however, one of her favorite phrases she clung to was one her mother had told her when she was young and inquisitive. 

“What are those, mum?” she’d asked, poking at the colored dots on her face while her mother tucked her into bed.

“Angel kisses,” she answered simply, leaving her grade school aged self in awe. Angels had graced her with their love, and she couldn’t help but feel a mix of reverence and jealousy when she saw anyone but her mother with them.

It was something she thought only the most exemplary people deserved, and she didn’t know anyone but her mum who’d earned the right to have them. Until she met Bobby.

The scar on his brow bone that kissed the thick coarse hair (just barely noticeable when she was close to him) beckoned to her, and she answered its call, grazing the pad of her thumb across the pink-tinted skin.

He’d fallen off of a skateboard after trying to impress a girl in his neighborhood, cracking his head against the pavement, a permanent reminder of his flubbed attempt at flirting. He laughed about it constantly, chalking it up to his poor ‘game’, but she thought it was one of the most endearing stories from his childhood.

He stirred, reaching up to itch his face, likely because she touched him – he was ticklish, and she took advantage of that whenever he’d let her.

She watched his fingers bend, scratching, before she lightly grasped them, holding his slender joints in her palm.

The top of his hand was smooth, yet the skin of his palms and fingers were rough, a paradox manifesting in the form of his hands (and they were a work of art).

Her gaze flitted across his body, her affection growing with each part of him she designated a piece of her heart to. Every inch of him was beautiful in its design, and it all culminated as the artist’s magnum opus. 

She silently thanked the universe for bringing them together.

He rustled, taking a deep breath and stretching. He peeked at her from one eye, a slow grin spreading on his face. “What’re you doing up this early?” He yawned, his voice dripping with sleep, his rasp accentuated.

“I couldn’t sleep, Bobs,” she lied, stroking his cheek. “Go back to sleep.”

“I won’t if you’re not,” he laughed quietly, wrapping his arm around her to pull her waist towards him.

His alarm sounded, and he groaned, throwing his pillow over his face. “At least give me a cuddle before I have to get up for work.”

“Always,” she whispered, and sleep overtook her soon after. Her favorite moments were those stolen, and like a thief in the night, she greedily collected to add to her wealth.


End file.
